Unlike whiskey, which has been a crucial prop for the tough and the heartbroken since the invention of cinema, wine and movies have rarely been a great pairing.

Perhaps it's because most Americans didn't appreciate wine until recently. Perhaps it's because wine is more complex than whiskey, and Hollywood is all about simplicity.

But sometimes it clicks: Wine plays a significant role, the filmmakers get the wine parts right, and the movie is a pleasure to watch.

Using those three standards, The Chronicle proudly presents the Top 10 Wine Films of all time.

In creating this list, allowances were made by necessity in the size of wine's part. Wine may be a living thing, but it rarely hogs the spotlight in a great film.

So rather than include bad, wine-heavy movies like "Blood and Wine," "Mondovino" and "A Walk in the Clouds," the 10 films here were picked mostly on their cinematic merits.

The list is limited to American films, with the exception of one British action flick that many Americans may be surprised to learn wasn't made in Hollywood. It's not that French, Italian, Spanish and German movies aren't excellent; there simply weren't enough evenings to watch enough movies to pick the Top 10 wine films in the world. Perhaps a sequel is in order.

Rivers of fine Champagne flow in this short list candidate for the best American film ever, and even better, nobody pays the tab.

This film established Bogart -- previously best known for playing gangsters and tough guys -- as a romantic lead, catapulting him to the superstardom that still lingers today. Then-bigger stars George Raft and Ronald Reagan reportedly turned down the part of saloon keeper Rick; the former is barely remembered, and the latter's continuing fame is hardly because of his acting career.

Much of the film was written on the fly during production; Bergman did not know, during filming, whether her character would ultimately choose Bogart, her cynical onetime lover, or her husband, Henreid, the crusading rebel. Director Curtiz told her to "play it in between."

"Casablanca" has some of the best dialogue ever written. One of the best lines comes after Bergman reminds Bogart that the last time they met was the day the Nazis marched into Paris. Bogart: "I remember every detail. The Germans wore gray, you wore blue."

But Champagne's finest moment comes during the flashback to Bogart and Bergman's romance in Paris, when they're drinking bubbly in a cafe. As Bogart's faithful friend Sam (Dooley Wilson, a drummer in real life) plays "As Time Goes By" on the piano, Bogie says the cafe owner "says to finish this bottle and then three more. He says he'll water his garden with Champagne before he'll let the Germans drink it."

Wilson then says, "This ought to take the sting out of being occupied," before Bogart makes cinema's most famous toast, to Bergman: "Here's looking at you, kid."

James Bond has always been a sophisticated and wide-ranging drinker, with much more of a taste for Champagne -- particularly in Ian Fleming's novels -- than the vodka martinis he's now most famous for.

However, nowadays everything Bond drinks is a product placement. Bollinger Champagne, Finlandia vodka and Heineken beer are changing Bond's character. Bond was a patriot, not a mercenary. Yet if the Coors Brewing Company were to throw enough cash his way, the next thing you know Bond would be sipping bright red Zima XXX Hard Punch.

In "Dr. No," the first Bond film -- and still one of the most enjoyable -- Sean Connery's 007 drinks a lot of Smirnoff vodka, probably as a forerunner to the blatant commercialism of today's brand choices.

However, the moment that establishes Bond to audiences as more than a well-trained assassin, but a well-informed bon vivant as well, involves Champagne.

"Invited" to dinner while held captive by Dr. No (Joseph Wiseman), Bond grabs a bottle to use as a weapon.

"That's a Dom Perignon '55," says the evil yet cultured Dr. No. "It would be a pity to break it."

He's not just an oenophile -- he's a total vintage-obsessed wine geek. To American audiences of the 1960s, he must have seemed impossibly well bred. Today, he would be posting tasting notes online, under an alias, of course.

In fact, you can predict the quality of an early Bond movie by the vintage of Dom that he orders.

In the entertaining film "Goldfinger" (1964), Bond enjoys a bottle of the '53 Dom with a beautiful woman. But in "Thunderball" (1965), he orders a bottle of the '55 he once scorned -- and the movie isn't as good.

And when George Lazenby plays Bond in "On Her Majesty's Secret Service" (1969), he makes the huge gaffe of ordering a bottle of the '57 vintage, considered a poor one for Dom. No wonder Lazenby made only one Bond film.

Kline won an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor in "A Fish Called Wanda," but he's even better in this romantic comedy as the prodigal son of a French family of vineyard owners. Not only does he hit all the right romantic and comedic notes; to this American, he's astonishingly convincing as a Frenchman, right down to the Gallic gestures of disinterest and disdain.

Soon after Kline meets Ryan, he sneaks a grapevine into her bag to bring into France. Why he needs to smuggle a grapevine from Canada into France is never explained, but the rest of the film's take on wine is so accurate -- and so loving -- that this oddity can be forgiven.

Ryan is a repressed, lactose-intolerant North American who flies to France to pursue her fiance Hutton, who has called her from Paris to announce that he met somebody else and is breaking their engagement. She soon finds herself stranded in France, and Kline, with ulterior motives, announces that he will help her win Hutton back.

There may not be a better, more poetic description of the concept of terroir than the following exchange between Ryan and Kline.

Ryan: "A bold wine with a hint of sophistication and lacking in pretension. (Pause.) Actually I was just talking about myself.

Kline: "You are not wrong. Wine is like people. The wine takes all the influences in life all around it, it absorbs them and it gets its personality."

Kline also teaches her how to smell different aspects of a wine's aroma, using a kit he created with dried rosemary, lavender and cassis. Kline and Ryan have good chemistry, and this film seems more charming now then upon its release. The French country vineyard lifestyle has never looked this romantic on the American screen.

If this film were released today, instead of earning nine Oscars including Best Picture, it would be seen as child sexploitation.

Even in the 1950s, the sentiments in this great MGM musical were shockingly dated; it's set in France about 1900. Jourdan, a rich industrialist and bored playboy, enjoys jesting with exuberant teenager Caron (she's supposed to be about 15, though she was actually 26 at the time of the film's release).

Caron, as Gigi of course, is being trained by her aunt and grandmother to be a courtesan. They teach her to make airheaded conversation, distinguish expensive jewelry from cheap pieces, and sprawl elegantly on a sofa.

They also teach her to drink wine.

"You have to fully enjoy the aroma," her haughty aunt says. "On your first sip, hold it on the roof of your mouth for a moment and breathe through your nose. Then you will feel the flavor. ... A bad year will be sharp. A good year, which this is of course, will waft."

Jourdan is bored with such Parisian society ladies and enjoys Caron's girlish ways. He plies her with Champagne when her grandmother (Hermione Gingold) has her back turned. When he loses a bet to Caron and thus agrees to take her to the beach for a weekend, Caron jumps into his lap and he spanks her suggestively as she swills Champagne from his glass.

But instead of summoning the gendarmes, Gingold joins the nascent winter-spring romantic couple for the delightful song, "The Night They Invented Champagne." The song glosses over the actual accidental discovery in the 17th century of spontaneous secondary fermentation leading to fizzy carbon dioxide, but it is a musical comedy, after all.

The antiquated thinking doesn't stop with underage drinking and seduction. Once he realizes his feelings for Caron have morphed, Jourdan proposes to set her up as his mistress, with a good apartment and all her bills paid. He's furious when she rejects the offer.

"Gigi" is lovable on several levels. For fans of French cuisine, it's interesting to see famous restaurants, especially Maxim's, tarted up to appear as they did in 1900. The comedy is funny, the songs are good, and Chevalier is still a joy to watch.

Plus, this is not a movie that can ever be made again. In one of his best numbers, Jourdan stalks through scenic Paris singing, "She's a child." Yep, she is. And people call "Vertigo" perverse.

Filmed in what is now Francis Ford Coppola's house in Rutherford, this made-for-TV movie puts a pretty good twist on biodynamic farming.

The van Bohlen family owns a winery so important that their town near St. Helena is named after them. The family is completely controlled by Swanson, a silent-film diva in her next-to-last film part (she played herself as a passenger in the disaster film "Airport 1975" the following year).

The van Bohlens successfully specialize in sweet wines, a reminder that America's love for dry wines is a relatively recent phenomenon. When Jackson, the fiancee of Swanson's grandson Albert, first tastes one, she says, "It's strangely sweet, as if there were honey ..." And just then a bee goes after her. Don't divulge the trade secrets!

In fact, the van Bohlens have figured out how to deal with the shortage of trained viticultural workers in Napa Valley. Their swarm of Africanized bees follows Swanson's orders, including attacking people who trespass on the vineyard. And they're 100 percent organic.

One of the family's winemaking techniques is novel: Albert's father, explaining why the family reserve Chenin Blanc is so delicious, says, "The very least touch of honey added to wine as it ferments ..." Wonder if anyone other than meadmakers has tried that?

Some scenes in a nondescript diner remind us how Napa culinary culture has changed, but none more than this line from Albert to Jackson: "You think you're going to meet a nice American family -- frozen dinners, bowling on Wednesdays." He then explains that his grandmother is European; hence, no frozen dinners. Damn 1974 Europeans, didn't they understand how food technology had advanced? Set the bees after them.

"The Muppet Movie" (1979)

Director: James Frawley. Cast: Jim Henson, Frank Oz, Charles Durning.

Steve Martin's hilarious cameo as a haughty waiter/sommelier puts this kids' film on the list. It squeaks past "The Parent Trap" (1998) as the best children's wine film. (See "Left on the cutting room floor," Page F3.)

Out to dinner with Miss Piggy, Kermit the Frog orders a bottle of bubbly, which turns out to be sparkling Muscatel from Idaho that Martin "uncorks" with a beer opener. Kermit is about to sip some when Miss Piggy reminds him that the expert is supposed to taste it first. Martin takes a sip, spits it out in a rush, grimaces, then composes his face into a smarmy smile and says, "An excellent choice." I feel like I've ordered wine from that sommelier.

The film is a nostalgic romp for people who enjoyed it in childhood. It's mildly amusing throughout, although only Martin draws a laugh-out-loud moment. Though targeted at preteens, it's one of those films where the actors know they're in a movie -- in one scene, a rescue van arrives out of nowhere because the driver had been given a script earlier and knew when he would be needed. This winking at the audience gives it a sophistication that makes it watchable for grown-ups.

According to the Internet Movie Database, at least one reference to alcohol in the original theatrical release (asked if he wants to order a drink, Kermit says, "I'll have a grasshopper") was subsequently cut, perhaps because it's a children's film.

But they couldn't cut Martin because he's the highlight of the movie. See it with your kids; you can advise them that in the right company, on a warm night on a terrace with a nice piece of pork, even Vin de Idaho can be special.

Only Alfred Hitchcock can make it nerve-racking to watch people drink Champagne.

Hitchcock was known as the master of suspense because of the tension in his films. "Notorious" is one of his best; Roger Ebert calls it "the most elegant expression of the master's visual style."

Bergman stars as the title character, a "notorious" woman whose father is convicted of treason for spying for the Nazis. Bergman also once loved current Nazi spy Rains, and is now a hard drinker accused of promiscuity.

Grant plays an American spy who manipulates Bergman into flying to Rio de Janeiro and back into Rains' arms in order to see what he's doing now.

In the most interesting character twist, it's eventually easier to sympathize with Rains, a mama's boy and Nazi, than with the patriotic Grant, because at least Rains' love for Bergman is genuine. The ending of this film is so perfectly staged that I dare not ruin it by tattling.

Where does the Champagne come in?

Grant suspects that the Nazis are hiding a substance used to make radioactive weapons in wine bottles. He and Bergman poke around in the wine cellar of a mansion, opening bottles, while the Nazis throw a big party. If someone finds them down there, they'll be killed.

Meanwhile, the high-society guests are drinking huge amounts of Champagne. All the while, we know that if the Champagne upstairs runs out, someone will be sent to the cellar to fetch more, and Bergman and Grant will be shot.

All of the other films on the list have interesting scenes about wine, but only in "This Earth Is Mine" does wine play such an important role. And of those two, this is simply the better movie.

"Sideways" gets everything right. Through the character of Jack (Church), a washed-up actor with an unquenchable libido, it teaches wine novices how to taste wine. The arrogant oenophile Miles (Giamatti) explains the elusive appeal of Pinot Noir.

Maya (Madsen), Miles' love interest, shows us why stuffy snobs like Miles don't really get it; that wine is meant to be shared with friends. And Stephanie (Sandra Oh), Jack's fling, shows us that you don't need to be wealthy to have a few good bottles lying around. She also shows us that it's not a good idea to lie to a lover.

The movie's characters are richly developed, and the depth of detail extends to the wines chosen. Miles hates Merlot and Cabernet Franc, yet his most precious wine is a blend of the two. But the script doesn't shove that point down our throats; it's there if you know it's there.

By the way, thanks a lot, Miles, you twit, for superheating the market for Pinot Noir. At least good Merlots are more available than ever. This is called the "Sideways effect" in the wine industry; the fact that there is such a term two years after the film's release shows how important this movie is.

Moreover, like a good Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon, the movie's acidic dialogue and well-balanced characters mean it will still seem fresh 30 years from now.

There's no actual wine in this movie, so if there's a ringer on the list, this is it. But this film is responsible for the most famous wine and food pairing in the history of cinema.

In one of the most famous roles of his great career, Hopkins plays the brilliant psychiatrist, serial killer and cannibal Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

Do we remember that Lecter can draw the view from the duomo in Florence from memory? No. Do we remember the ecstatic look on his face as he listens to classical music while killing and flaying two guards? No.

This is what everyone remembers about Lecter. Trying to scare FBI trainee Foster, Hopkins says: "A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti."

Hopkins then makes a sucking sound as if sampling a wine. Or maybe he's angry at the script being dumbed down.

In the book by Thomas Harris, Lecter prefers an Amarone with human liver, but most Americans are far less familiar with Amarone than Chianti.

Skye LaTorre, a sommelier at San Francisco's A16 restaurant, which specializes in food and wine from the Italian region of Campania, says of human liver with fava beans: "We wouldn't serve it with Chianti, but it would go well with one. The older-style Chiantis have a gaminess to them that would go with the funk of a liver."

Asked what she might recommend as a pairing if human liver were on A16's menu, LaTorre says, "I'd probably do an Aglianico. They've also got the berry fruit and dark notes, and they're kind of angular in style. You need to bring out the redness of liver. Liver can be kind of dense, but lean. You want something with acidity to brighten it up."

Lecter, party of one, your table is ready. Or did you say you're having an old friend for dinner?

Filmed at what is now Rubicon Estate, with workers appearing as extras, this film is even more winecentric than "Sideways," and just as accurate. Its portrayal of the issues that divided Napa Valley in the 1930s still seems prescient today. Also, some of the gender-preference innuendo in Hudson's dialogue is pretty interesting now.

A Douglas Sirk-style twisted melodrama set at the end of Prohibition, "This Earth Is Mine" has never been released on video or DVD, although it can be seen on bootleg copies or TV movie channels. This CinemaScope film is crying out for a big-screen revival at a San Francisco movie house like the Castro or the Balboa.

Claude Rains, around 70 at the time of the movie's release, plays the patriarch of a Napa Valley family who still insists on making fine wine every year, even though sales to the public are illegal. Hudson is his ambitious, callous grandson who is convinced the family and its neighbors can make a lot more money selling their grapes to bootleggers in Chicago.

In this steamy version of Napa life, loveless marriages are arranged to bring desirable vineyard parcels, such as Stags Leap, into the family. Affairs of all types, even incestuous, are never out of the question, though the price will be high. And the Valley is exclusionary, classist and racist.

Hudson's mother, played by Anna Lee, says at one point: "Andre is thinking of selling Stags Leap. Cutting it up into little parcels. Selling it off to all the riffraff that come flooding in here because the price of grapes is high."

Rains plays a noble character, believing that wine grapes are a gift from God. "The grape is the only fruit that God gave the sense to know what it was made for," he says. The film gives simple-to-understand descriptions of both the winemaking process and how to taste and appreciate wine.

Yet for all the great wine bits, the most memorable moment comes after Simmons tells Hudson that she loves him.

"Disclosure" (1994): Demi Moore sexually harasses Michael Douglas, partly by special-ordering a 1991 Pahlmeyer Chardonnay, a key plot point. The film made Pahlmeyer famous yet is more sensationalistic than fun.

"Dracula" (1931): Dracula to Renfield: "This is very old wine. I hope you like it." Renfield: "Aren't you drinking?" Dracula: "I never drink ... wine."

"The Godfather" (1972): As in director Francis Ford Coppola's youth, wine is always on the family dinner table. But the Corleones are not connoisseurs like the Sopranos; it's just there. Still a great movie.

"Mondovino" (2004): This plodding, anti-American wine documentary excited French audiences and angered some interview subjects who felt misled. If you're not a total wine geek, it's long and boring.

"The Parent Trap" (1998): Lindsay Lohan makes her film debut as twins separated just after birth; one was raised in London and the other at Napa's Staglin Family Vineyards (under an assumed name). The Napa-raised twin takes a deep whiff of her English grandfather on their first meeting and says she will always remember he smells of peppermint and pipe tobacco. Sadly, many wine parts aren't accurate -- for example, Lohan's dad says that rain in 1921 in Burgundy made for a great vintage, confounding viticultural wisdom. Otherwise, this charming kids' flick might make the Top 10.

"Seconds" (1966): A disturbing version of the Fountain of Youth tale in which an aging banker is surgically transformed into dashing Rock Hudson, but doesn't adjust well to his new life. A wine-drenched Feast of Bacchus in Santa Barbara, with naked people ecstatically crushing grapes, teaches him to have fun, but also leads to unpleasant consequences.

"Sex, Lies and Videotape" (1989): When James Spader tells Andie MacDowell he's impotent, she makes this, um, motion on her wineglass with her hands that we won't describe here.

"Star Trek: Nemesis" (2002): Capt. Picard toasts a departed friend with his family's Chateau Picard wine in the last voyage for the Next Generation crew. And we learn Romulan ale gives even Klingons a hangover.

"They Knew What They Wanted" (1940): A must-see for Napa Valley historians. Unattractive Italian vineyard owner Charles Laughton uses Anglo farmhand William Gargan to entice waitress Carole Lombard to Napa to marry him. It's an invaluable film record of Italian-American wine culture, and also has great exteriors. Another one just below the Top 10; the seriously dated "happy ending" is just too bizarre today.

"The Unholy Wife" (1957): Diana Dors, Britain's Marilyn Monroe, stars as a gold digger who marries wealthy vintner Rod Steiger and plots murder. This interesting, accurate portrayal of a winemaking battle between Napa Valley quality and Central Valley quantity is undone by a preachy, slow-moving plot. "A Walk in the Clouds" (1995): Beautiful Napa Valley exteriors in a silly romance starring Keanu Reeves. Inferior to the similar "They Knew What They Wanted," with an even more ridiculous ending.

"Year of the Comet" (1992): If the TV show "24" was a romantic comedy about wine, it would be this crazy chase film with torture, helicopter crashes and private armies of henchmen. The plot revolves around a bottle of 1811 Chateau Lafite Rothschild. Pretty silly movie but improves as it goes along, or maybe that was just the wine I was drinking with it.